Whether System {a #poem}
Texas Sky April 2011
Thunderclouds
are roiling on the horizon,
stacking up East-wise,
threatening to move in–
move in and dump.
But they’re whiter
than white can be
and only so much vapor.
I imagine their
rumbling high over
distant mountains,
molecules leaving mess
and mayhem, headed this way.
But there’s no
running for cover.
Hand over hand,
huddle-like, we refuse
the fear they are wont
to bring, all noise and
show and billow.
Pillow-high, they’re forced
skyward by the whether system
moving their way.
Truth rises, air pressure
changes and they dissipate
feather-like, gossamer
strands unraveling
and blowing invisible
away.
